Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

The so-called unicorn horses were nothing more than mutant beasts. Still, Western Bridgeport boasted some of the finest beast tamers in the world.

It had taken decades of breeding and brutal conditioning to subdue even a first-level mutant beast to the point where it could be ridden. Only the truly wealthy and powerful of the city could afford such a mount.

Miller wasn’t afraid of them. But getting entangled with people like this always created a headache afterward.

Dozens of riders closed in, their hulking beasts pawing the ground. Angelica only sighed, her voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, Angelica. I’m here. No one will lay a hand on you,” Miller promised, his chest swelling with bravado.

But before he could say more, Angelica stepped forward. She lifted her hand ever so slightly, and Miller felt a ripple of power roll past him—delicate, yet heavy enough to make his skin prickle.

His eyes widened. She’s an Awakened?!

He was Level Four himself, an Intermediate Awakened. His senses were sharp, but he hadn’t felt even a *whisper* of Force energy from her until now.

The answer arrived in the most humiliating way possible.

One by one, the unicorn horses began retching. Their riders doubled over, groaning, clutching their stomachs. The sound of gagging and splattering hit the night air.

“What the fuck is happening?!”

“My stomach—ahh, shit—”

The giant beasts frothed at the mouth, muscles twitching as they collapsed onto the cobblestones. The riders weren’t much better, keeling over in the filth, cursing between heaves.

Miller just stood there, his mind blank.

Angelica didn’t spare them a glance. She walked through the carnage as calmly as if she were strolling down a garden path.

Watching her fade into the night, Miller felt—for the first time in all his years of chasing women—utterly ridiculous. Everything he had done tonight was nothing more than a sideshow act in the shadow of this woman.

“Angelica!” he shouted, desperate. “My name’s not Axel. It’s Miller! Add me!”

She paused. Slowly, she turned back, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Then she disappeared into the darkness.

Miller stood frozen, hollow. They had barely exchanged a handful of words, yet her silhouette burned itself into his memory, refusing to fade.

“Who the hell are you?” he whispered, lost, staring toward the glittering bar street beyond. For the first time, his countless romantic flings felt cheap.

......

Meanwhile, at the Soft Love Café in Western Bridgeport’s night market, the proprietress eyed two men as they entered—one old, one young—and smirked knowingly.

“Wait a sec, I’ll set up a private room for you,” she said with a wink.

As they walked past, she muttered under her breath, “Things really are getting looser these days. Young guys will do anything to make a quick buck.”

Axel nearly tripped on the threshold. He held it together until they were seated, then yanked off his hat and exhaled hard.

Even though the Heavenly Spirit Fruit was tucked away safely in his Space Capsule, meeting Isaac still made him feel like he was carrying a stolen god’s secret.

Isaac studied him for a long moment. His eyes softened, and his hand landed on Axel’s shoulder. “Don’t be so down on yourself. The mission failed, but that wasn’t your fault. You did your best. You’re the best we’ve got.”

Axel blinked. His voice dropped low. “The mission… failed?”

Isaac froze. His chest tightened. “Wait. Don’t tell me you left it in the Abyss?”

If so, retrieving it would mean sending people back into that cursed pit—through its choking aura, through near-certain death. But there would be a sliver of hope.

“No.” Axel shook his head. Then he opened his hand.

Nestled in his palm was a fruit, blood-red and gleaming.

Isaac’s brain short-circuited. His breath hitched, voice trembling. “That… that’s…”

Axel smiled faintly, closing his fingers around it before extending both hands. “Will this be enough?”

“Enough?” Isaac’s face lit up with childlike joy as he accepted it, almost shaking. “It’s more than enough!”

He couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop holding the fruit like it was the most precious thing in the world. Axel had just turned despair into triumph.

“How did you even get it out?” The question slipped out before Isaac realized how foolish it was. Everyone had their secrets—sometimes deadly ones. This one clearly cut deep.

“I have my ways,” Axel replied evenly. Victor’s existence in the Abyss would never be revealed, not to anyone. Not because of trust, but because some truths could never be spoken.

Isaac nodded quickly. “Excellent. Excellent.” He carefully tucked the fruit away, already imagining the look on Lord Aurelion’s face when the Round Table heard the news.

Three years of planning, thought lost in an instant—revived by this one young man.

“The others,” Isaac asked softly. “Who were they?”

Axel’s expression clouded. “Three from the Havoc Division. One from Rutherford’s War Academy. And one… a Free Awakener.”

Torren’s dying words flickered in his mind, and Axel’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry. It was too dangerous. I couldn’t save them.”

If not for those three, he never would have found the tree hollow or the seedling, never would have had the chance to seize the Heavenly Spirit Fruit. Their sacrifice had bought him this victory.

Isaac’s chest grew heavy. “Their deaths… weren’t in vain.”

He straightened. “Stay here. I’ll contact Lord Aurelion.”

Axel nodded. “Alright.”

......

Ten minutes later, in the shadowed expanse of the spiritual realm, Isaac once again faced the figure on the throne. This time, there were no others—just the two of them.

“Thronebearer, have you reached Axel?” Aurelion’s voice sounded weary, as though burdened by too many nights without rest.

“Lord Aurelion,” Isaac steadied his breath. “Axel brought back the Heavenly Spirit Fruit.”

“What?!”

“Not just one,” Isaac said, his tone sharp with triumph. “Over a dozen.”

For the first time, Isaac saw the unshakable Aurelion lose his composure. “That little kid…”

Isaac knew Aurelion well enough to recognize the suppressed laugh behind the words.

“He must have some kind of spatial artifact on him,” Aurelion muttered.

The words snapped Isaac into clarity.

“Axel,” Aurelion sighed, a rare softness in his voice, “truly his father’s son. Back then, it was the father who gave us hope. Now, it’s the son’s turn.”

“Yes,” Isaac agreed, his own voice low. “If not for Axel…”

“Good. I’ll have someone fetch the fruit from you.”

“But Isaac... He’s clever, yes, but a tall tree catches the wind. He already shines too brightly. From now on, let us old men take on the dangerous burdens. Axel needs time—time to grow.”

“I understand, Lord Aurelion.” Isaac’s figure dissolved into the dark mist.

Moments later, another silhouette coalesced at the round table. Starveil.

“You wished to see me, Lord Aurelion?” Her voice was quiet, reserved. She rarely sought him out on her own, and she rarely spoke more than necessary.

“If you had access to the Heavenly Spirit Fruit,” Aurelion asked, “how long would it take you to produce a healing elixir?”

Starveil stiffened, lifting her gaze. “With one fruit, perhaps two years. And even then, it would be reckless—there’s no margin for error. I would never dare experiment with the only one in existence.”

“What if,” Aurelion pressed, “there were more than a dozen?”

Her calm faltered, her breath catching. “Lord Aurelion… are you saying—?”

“Indeed. Thronebearer’s man carried out more than a dozen Heavenly Spirit Fruits.”

More than a dozen.

Starveil inhaled sharply, her voice finally breaking into something human, almost trembling. “If that’s true, then I can do it in a year. At most.”

“Good.” Aurelion gave a single, satisfied nod. “I’ll find a way to place the fruit in your hands.”

“Thank you, Lord Aurelion. I won’t fail your trust.”

“For now, keep this between you and Thronebearer. Protect yourself. Guard the secret.”

“I will.” Starveil lingered a moment, then asked, “Lord Aurelion… when the elixir is complete, what then?”

If the potion fell into the wrong hands, it would be catastrophic. The fruit tree was gone—this was their one chance.

“Don’t worry,” Aurelion said, voice heavy with iron. “I’ll make sure it ends up where it should.”

Starveil nodded once before fading, leaving Aurelion alone. He sat in silence at the heart of the throne, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavier than the darkness itself.